


Moral of the Story

by ConcernedBrows



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Divergence - Post-Hogwarts, F/M, Falling In Love, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Professor Draco Malfoy, Professor Hermione Granger, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:40:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23280376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConcernedBrows/pseuds/ConcernedBrows
Summary: UNDERGOING A REWRITE!!! - I rushed posting this. It deserves better."There is no timestamp on trauma. There isn't a formula that you can insert yourself into to get from horror to healed."Three years after her final year of Hogwarts, Hermione Granger is invited back to take up the position of Professor of History of Magic. After major life changes a year prior, she is anxious to find some semblance of normalcy.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 10
Kudos: 24





	1. Prologue

Hermione Granger took a deep breath, admiring herself in the mirror. Her heart was pounding in her chest, sweat prickled her palms. She smoothed her hands down the front of her ivory gown, her hair pinned out of her face. Would her parents be happy for her? She wondered to herself, nervously picking at the skin around her nail bed. Hermione knew that there would be jitters the morning of her wedding but she didn’t anticipate the absolute dread in the pit of her stomach. “Get a grip Hermione…” she chastised herself. This is Ron we are talking about; you’ve known him most of your life. She tried to psych herself up, going over all the reasons that she should be walking down the aisle. It was just a shame that the reasons not to seemed to creep themselves forward. Angrily she sat down on the small settee in the corner of the bridal suite, grabbing the glass of champagne Ginny left her, she downed it, hoping the alcohol would give her some sort of level-headedness.

Hermione nervously tapped her heel against the hardwood, sitting and dwelling would do nothing. Standing back up she gathered her skirts in her free hand, making her way to the open window. Fresh air should help. Half covered by the curtains Hermione watched the last of the guests make their way into the entryway below her. Standing beside the column was her husband to be, his fiery hair combed neatly back. He seemed tense, she decided, peering her eyes at him. Then one lone figure made her way up the long pathway to the chapel. Her hair was down, ebony curls pushed over one shoulder, she was small and very pretty, dressed in a short red muggle dress. The woman smiled at Ron and he ran at her, and to Hermione’s horror, he scooped her up in his arms and kissed her hotly. She backed away from the window, dropping her glass and it shattering on the floor. The couple outside sprang apart, and there was a knock at the door behind her.

“Hermione, are you alright dear? We heard a crash.” Mr. Weasley’s voice came from the other side of the door.

“I’m fine! Just knocked over a glass with my skirts.” She stammered, trying to dab the tears forming in her eyes. Hermione has suspected for a while now that Ron was having an affair, he proposed as Hermione was beginning to pull away. He caught her looking at apartments and then the next day had a ring ready, Hermione thought that he was right. But during the last six months of planning the wedding, he pulled away heavily, leaving it all on her shoulders. Now she knew why he was busy.

Mr. Weasley opened the door, “are you sure you’re alright?” Hermione almost broke then and there, how could she possibly tell the man who loved her as one of his own, that she couldn’t marry his son. She forced out a smile and nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Well if you’re sure, they’re ready for you.” Hermione went to the door and took Mr. Weasley’s arm, allowing him to guide her down the stairs. She readied herself to say no to his face, going over it in her head. Together they walked down the stairs heading towards the aisle. As Hermione turned to face the open door, she looked at the packed chapel, all their friends and Ron’s family, gathered to celebrate their supposed love. But as she scanned the seats closest to the door, she noticed a familiar face in a red dress. The woman looked at Hermione and smirked, she had seen this woman before. In the Ministry, she worked in the same department at Ron and Harry. Hermione snapped her gaze back at Ron, who couldn’t hide the guilt on his face. Mr. Weasley kept walking Hermione further down the aisle, and she suddenly froze halfway. “I can’t do this.” She muttered, only loud enough for Mr. Weasley to hear.

“What do you mean dear?” he quickly turned to her, and she looked at him pale, with tears in her eyes.

“I can’t do this.” Her voice caught in her throat, speaking a little louder. All eyes were on her, as she gave Mr. Weasley’s arm a squeeze. “I’m sorry.” Hermione gave one final look towards Ron, who remained silent before she turned and ran. The voices of confusion ringing out behind her.


	2. New Beginnings

The sunlight falls over crisp sheets, as Hermione half sits up and rubs the sleep from her eyes. The sounds of the early fall morning traveling up through the half-open window, Hogsmeade already becoming busy with people getting ready for the impending school year. Pushing her hair out of her face she sighs, dreading having to get up from the cozy sanctuary of bed. Taking a deep breath Hermione looked around the cozy apartment, from the soft white comforter to the reading chair in the corner with the floor around it scattered with books, and notes, it all screamed new, fresh. A new apartment, a new job, a new Hermione. The only thing that stayed it seems was Crookshank, who currently looked at her from his spot in the sunlight.

For it only being her twenty-second birthday she felt much older than that, more tired than ever before. The last year had been trying to say the least, Hermione thought to herself, things weren’t supposed to be this… difficult. After the war, she fell into the role of hero, and friend of the chosen one quite easily. But that fame never lasts long, even for the gravity of what she had been through, was it really worth it? Finally rolling out of bed she stretched, making her way over to her kitchenette the first thing she knew she needed was tea. Pulling out the kettle she smiled and looked over at the fluffy mass rolling around on his back. “I’m glad you like the place,” she said somewhat bitterly. Uncertain if she was being bitter with the whole new situation, or the fact that he seemed so at ease with it all. After the war ended Hermione lived at the Burrow, falling into a routine of work, books, and Ron. Now that had all changed, a new job at Hogwarts teaching History of Magic, books were more complicated, and no Ron. The kettle screamed behind her, snapping her out of her pity party.

Hermione sipped her morning tea, sitting at her kitchen table pouring over her albeit complicated curriculum. One more week, and she would have a full plate, and less time to sulk. On the top of the pile of books sat probably her most prized possession, a first edition copy of A History of Magic signed by the author herself, Bathilda Bagshot. Thank you, Harry Potter, she smiled to herself. It may have been bought as a somewhat olive branch but she couldn’t help but love it regardless. Looking down at the cup of lukewarm tea in her hands, Hermione’s heart sank a little bit. Just barely there, fading from existence was the tan from her engagement ring. Soon enough it would be nothing more than a passing memory, something that might have been had there still been some honesty left. The war changed all of them, some it made stronger, others it made unstable. She blinked back tears quickly, trying to turn her mind to more positive things.

It was a miracle that Hermione got the position in the first place. Professor, sorry no, Headmistress McGonagall had been writing to her the last two years trying to get her to take the position so she could finally sack Binns as the teacher. Not that Hermione could blame her, she was most likely the only person in Hogwarts who resisted falling asleep in his class. She sat back in her chair, taking a long swig of tea she tried to calm the nerves that made her breathing speed up and her heart pound uncomfortably loud in her ears, making the room close in around her. She shook her head nervously, getting up from the table. It was just about time to floo to Hogwarts and meet with McGonagall to finalize everything. See her new office, learn who would be teaching at Hogwarts as well. It gave Hermione some relief to know that she would be surrounded by some familiar faces. Walking into the bathroom she took a good look at herself, touching her hair carefully she grimaces, curls sticking up all over the place, ever since she left Ron truthfully, she gave up a little. Not getting blowouts and looking prim and proper like she would because Ron loved her hair straight. “I have got to do something about this hair Crook.” She called out into the hallway, “I have also got to get a social life.” She muttered to herself before lifting the baggy grey sleep shirt over her head.

Stepping out of the green flames, Hermione stepped into the foyer of McGonagall’s office, everything was almost the same as the last time she had been in this office. Hermione smiled, feeling that familiar rush of home. Regardless of the war, Hogwarts would always be a place she would love to come back to. Taking a seat in one of the large leather couches in the sitting area Hermione helped herself to a lemon drop in a bowl on the table. “Some things never change,” she thinks to herself, rolling the familiar bittersweet candy over her tongue. After a few minutes, the door abruptly opens and McGonagall and Neville Longbottom step out.

“Hermione,” Neville says and she gets to her feet, the two quickly closing the space between them in a fierce hug, Hermione noticing just how much she craved another human being’s presence.

“Neville, how have you been?” She smiled brightly and pulled away to get a better look at him. Neville had almost completely changed, no longer the awkward teen she remembered so fondly, but a handsome young man.

“Fantastic, second year teaching Herbology so I couldn’t be happier.” He replied, still keeping his hands on her upper arms, his smile still the same as ever. “Professor McGonagall told me you’d be taking over History of Magic, thank god, the students are going to love you.”

“Thank you!” she gave his arm a light squeeze, “I best not keep her waiting, I’ll owl you once I get home and we’ll make plans to have tea before the school year begins.”

“Of course, I’ll hear from you soon Hermione!” he turned to leave, “we’ll see you in a few days, Minerva.” Hermione felt strange hearing the Headmistresses first name coming from Neville’s mouth, oh well, I guess I have to get used to it soon enough, she thought to herself.

“Miss Granger, please take a seat.” McGonagall motioned before her, and Hermione settled into a large, plush leather chair. Behind McGonagall a very large portrait of Dumbledore stared down at her, smiling behind his signature half-moon spectacles.

“Welcome back Miss Granger.” The portrait said, and she felt a lump in her throat, it had been a long time since she heard that voice.

“Thank you, Professor, it’s good to be back,” Hermione smiled at him bittersweetly. Dumbledore excused himself from the frame, moving though others till he was out of sight. “It’s good to see you again as well, three years is a long time.”

“Hogwarts has kept me busy, that’s for sure. I am overjoyed that you are finally joining the staff, I could never see you as a Ministry worker.” Hermione raised an eyebrow at this, puzzled. “That mind is far too brilliant to not share its knowledge with others.”

“Thank you, professor,” Hermione said blushing, earning a smile from McGonagall.

“Minerva, please. I don’t expect the formalities behind closed doors,” Minerva chided her playfully, “now, I assume you’ve made yourself friendly with the curriculum?”

“Was there any doubt?” Hermione chuckled, “I have it committed to memory already, now I just have to be more interesting that Professor Binns and we shouldn’t have a problem. No offense to the Professor, but my friends don’t have the best of things to say about History of Magic.”

“After the war, I knew it was time to reevaluate the status of the staff. We were lucky to only lose two of the staff, but others realized they wanted quiet and retired.” Minerva relaxed in her chair slightly. “We are slowly getting students enrolled, more kids every year. I thought it was about time that we lost the reputation we gained in the years after Voldemort stirred things up the first time around, let alone the second time.”

“I look forward to the changes ahead and teaching myself. It’ll be a nice change of pace and well, scenery.” Hermione just managed to swallow the lump rising in her throat, McGonagall looked at her knowingly.

“I could imagine that a lady in your position would want to.” Hermione opened her mouth to respond but McGonagall just held her hand up, “no need to elaborate Hermione, if anyone can relate to heartache it is I.” The two women just looked at each other for a moment the silence resonating between the two of them. Hermione was the first to break the silence by clearing her throat.

“It’s been hard, but I know Hogwarts will always welcome me back.” Hermione bucked up and shot her a genuine smile, which the other woman returned.

Standing back in her flat, Hermione found Crookshanks terrorizing a small barn owl through the closed window. "Crook, knock it off!" she quickly got to the commotion, moving Crookshanks to the floor and opened the window. Where she noticed a piece of parchment tied firmly around the owl's ankle, she smiled to the bird and gave it a treat from the jar beside her. “Thank you.” Hermione unrolled the letter, immediately recognizing Neville’s messy scrawl. With her free foot, she scooted Crookshanks out of the way, earning a small hiss from him

Hermione,

It was great seeing you again, I am free for tea at your earliest convenience. I am already settled in my chambers at Hogwarts, so send your response with Olya, she’ll know where to find me.

Neville

“Olya hey?” Hermione pet the bird softly. Sitting down at her desk she quickly wrote a response, stating he could come over that evening at six if it worked, and where to floo to. Tying the note to Olya’s leg she watched the owl flutter away into the evening sun. Leaning against the windowsill Hermione breathed in, after talking with McGonagall she felt more ready than ever. No matter what happened during and after her time at Hogwarts, it was still her second home. She knew that Crookshanks would even be anxious to get back to the mice in the dungeon. Shrugging off her cardigan Hermione crawled onto her chair, grabbing a muggle book off the side table. She had a few hours before Neville arrived, so she thought she might as well finish her book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I'll be updating daily for the next week for sure, depending on if my work re opens!


	3. A Friend Like You

It was strange sitting back in their home, packing her things quickly under the watchful eye of Ginny Weasley, who leaned against the bookcase sneering at Hermione. “I don’t want to be here as much as you do, if you could maybe help me with the last of the books, I would get out of your hair sooner.” Tears threatened to spill, but Hermione blinked them away, trying to preserve some peace between her almost sister in law. Ginny rolled her eyes and knelt beside her, placing the books into a box charmed to fit all of them.

“You know, if you just used magic to wrap this all up, I wouldn’t have to be here all-day babysitting.” Ginny’s tone was hurtful, causing Hermione to grimace. Hermione stayed silent, not wanting to create another fight with them. “Ron’s doing horrible by the way, since you refuse to ask about him.” Hermione felt her blood begin to boil.

“This is ridiculous Ginny; you’re trying to goad me on like a bloody teenager. I didn’t go into it with the intention of leaving Ron at the altar, but he sure as hell made it easy for me too.” Hermione finally snapped, staring daggers at her once a friend. “You don’t know everything that happened behind closed doors. Hell, I didn’t for the longest time…” she trailed off, looking back at the task at hand. She understood now, in her attempt to end things without more anger it backfired in her direction. Hermione should’ve seen it coming, of course Ron wouldn’t tell his family about the affair, it would soil his reputation. After 10 minutes Ginny finally put down the book in her hand, looking at the other woman, it took her a long moment of opening and shutting her mouth to finally speak.

“Hermione, I- “Ginny’s voice was interrupted by a knock at the door, one that sends Hermione jumping up. Her apartment was dark, and the book that was on her lap went tumbling to the floor. The someone at her door knocked again, Shit, Hermione cursed under her breath and jumped up. “Just a second!” Looking at the clock she realized that she vastly misjudged how tired she was. Running to the door while trying to get the sleep out of her eyes, she opened it to find Neville. “I am so sorry; I must’ve fallen asleep.”

“It’s no worry,” he smiled sheepishly, “I kind of thought that tonight we needed something a little stronger than tea.” He held up a bottle of Hermione’s favorite red wine, “I hope that your poison hasn’t changed since I last saw you.”

“No, I’m a creature of habit, come on in.” she ushered him inside, “I’ll grab some glasses, so just make yourself comfortable. I had planned on at least cleaning off the table, but time just seems to get away from me these days.” She laughed, stretching to reach the wine glasses off the top shelf. By the time Hermione turned around Neville was comfortably seated on her reading chair, Crookshanks already rubbing against his knee. “He never does that for anyone, so you should be honored.”

“Trust me I am, thank you,” he laughed, taking the glass from Hermione. “Are you excited to come back to Hogwarts?”

“Overjoyed, I can’t wait to put my time at the Ministry behind me.” She smiled, “I think it’s something I always wrestled with. It was easier for me to be at the Ministry, but you know how I am.”

“An insufferable know it all, who can’t help but shove her knowledge down the throats of others.” Neville half-joked, she scoffed, laughed, and took a sip.

“Other than Hogwarts, catch me up. What’s new with you? How’s Hannah?” Hermione asked, sitting adjacent to Neville on her small loveseat.

“Well, I’m spending most of my time teaching or getting ready to teach. I really love my students; I think you’re going to have the easiest time with the Slytherin’s strangely enough. And no Hannah anymore, we realized that the long-distance during the school year was too difficult, and I honestly can’t see myself doing anything but teaching.” Neville said, and Hermione reached over placing her hand on his arm. “It ended mutually, so it’s okay, we’re both doing great. I actually really like her fiancé, he’s a good bloke.”

“I’m glad you’re doing so good. I’ll have to sit in on one of your classes, maybe it’ll make me actually like Herbology.” She smirked at him. “Who is head of Slytherin house now? I know it was Slughorn for a bit, but once he retired, I never heard who took the potions position.”

“Believe it or not, Draco Malfoy.” Hermione half choked on her mouthful of wine.  
Now hear me out, I was skeptical at first, but he shaped up. Keeps to himself mostly, but he definitely broke free of the Malfoy reputation. He's an impressive teacher that's for sure, not everyone can shape up an entire house.”

“I’m surprised, never saw that coming. But I guess McGonagall knows more about it than any of us.” Neville smiled at that.

“She sure does,” Neville said, taking a long sip. “Now, tell me what this year has been for you, I haven’t seen you, well since…”

“My failed marriage attempt,” she laughed halfheartedly, “you can say it.”

“I mean I wouldn’t put it that way, the Hermione Granger I know wouldn’t just walk away without a perfectly good reason.” He looked at her, his eyes kinder than she had ever really seen them. Tears welled in her eyes, before a moment passed between them, she cleared her throat, looking away to hide the pain on her face. Taking a gulp of wine, she quickly changed the subject.

“Well, I stayed with the department of law enforcement before I moved to the department of the regulation and control of magical creatures, I was I that position for six months. Which was great, but it just wasn’t 100% what I was looking for.” she said, pausing to take a sip.

“What made you want to leave?” Neville asked, resting the glass in his hand on the top of his knee. Not wanting to explain how painful it was to run into Ron and Gemma every day.

“It was McGonagall actually, I ran into her at the Ministry, so we went for tea and she told me about the position. Within a week she owl’d me, I came in and signed the paperwork. It felt right, like I was meant to come back.” Hermione smiled. “Since then I have had two months off, I went to Australia to check on my parents, and then came back to work on the curriculum.”

“How are your parents?” He asked, leaning more towards her.

“They look great, they’ve got a house there and dad just opened a new clinic. They look so happy,” she said bittersweetly. “I haven’t found a way to reverse their… condition. But I know one day I’ll figure it out.”

“If anyone can it’s you. Other than that, things are good?” he topped up her glass.

“It’s been pretty good actually, just focusing on me. Weird, but it’s good.”

“I’m glad to hear it!” Neville smiled warmly, shrugging his sweater off. The wine giving his cheeks a little color.

“Good to see that you still can’t handle your wine.” Hermione laughed.

“Very funny, I think I held my own at Harry and Ginny’s wedding.” Hermione laughed, distinctly remembering Neville tearing up the dance floor with his shirt half unbuttoned, tie around his head. “I mean it, times have changed Hermione.”

“I guess this bottle will reveal all.” She smiled playfully, leaning forward to top up his glass.

“But you’re okay, right? Like I mean in light of everything, you’re okay?” His tone barely above a whisper, he placed a hand softly on her elbow. Hermione put down the bottle of wine, it had been a very long time since someone regarded her with so much softness. She looked up at him, not caring to pull away.

She paused, taking in a breath. Placing her small hand over his much larger one, her tone matching his, she partially lied, “I will be, I promise.” This Neville was so different than the one she grew up with, he was always so kind and brave, but this was a different kind of kindness. Hermione felt a hollow spot in her chest, one that she so desperately was glad that Neville could fill. Finally, they both pulled away downing the last of her glass trying to hide the blush that spread across her cheeks. What she didn’t see was Neville seeing right through her facade.

The rest of the night was full of laughter, Neville telling Hermione about all of the new professors, they gossiped about their old classmates, and Hermione reduced to a fit of giggles at his impression of McGonagall lecturing him on being firm with his students. Neville has this way about himself now that Hermione had never really seen before, a confidence. He had changed so much since the war, dressed in a simple white shirt and jeans she could see how he filled out since then. Clearly, he took great care of himself. His self-assurance is what Hermione found herself loving the most, this year of almost complete solitude really made her appreciate his company. It was nice to finally have a friend on her side.

Hermione standing on her tiptoes trying to reach up. She forgot just how tall Neville was, he held her close, for most likely a moment too long, not that Hermione cared all that much. “Thank you for this, it's been too long since I’ve had someone over.”

“Anytime you need the company I am happy to help.” They pulled away from each other slightly, his hand sitting on the small of her waist. Hermione leaned up and kissed his cheek softly, feeling the heat radiating from them. Neville could barely contain his smile, “goodnight Hermione.”

“Goodnight Neville.” She pulled away, smiling at him. It took them a second before he finally began backing away from the door, earning a laugh as he clumsily backed into a portrait hanging on the wall.

“Watch yourself boy,” the portrait scolded him.

“Sorry sir,” he said, finally walking down the stairs to the exit. Hermione smiled to herself, shutting the door and leaning on it. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt giddy, either from wine or from the company. Neville was the first friend to really check on her, as she burned a lot of bridges when she left Ron. Hermione’s mood soured thinking of him and his new fiancé the word was bitter in her mind. Giving her head a good shake, she gathered up the glasses, washing them in the sink. Smiling at the thought of Neville’s blush and kind eyes. After tidying up her apartment Hermione stripped-down, slipping into a pair of simple sleep shorts and an oversized shirt. The sheets were cool from the open window, which felt good against her hot skin. Crookshanks jumped up on the end of the bed, slowly creeping up to the spot beside her. Hermione was lulled to sleep by his deep rumbling purrs, thinking of Neville Longbottom with a smile on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just love Neville okay?


	4. Errands and Encounters

For the first time in months, Hermione woke up with a smile on her face, stretching out in her bed she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. There was something so relieving about a dreamless sleep, one not induced by a potion. Her birthday, over an uneventful. She sighed, relieved that there was no party, no gifts, no one fusing over her. Birthday’s truly wasn’t the same when parents weren’t able to remember. She rose from the bed, giving Crookshanks a pat as he stayed dozing in bed. While there wasn’t much work to be done, Hermione knew she had a few stops to make in Diagon Alley. New robes for teaching, some extra credit reading from Flourish and Blotts, some new parchment for official letters needed to be picked up, and of course a stop to the apothecary for a restock on her sleeping draught. She piled her wild curls onto the top of her head, not wanting to be tasked with having to wash them again. Applying simple makeup, she smiled at herself, not sure as to who she was trying to impress.

She wasn’t. Trying to impress someone that is, a romantic interest was surely the last thing that should be on her mind. Then again, “if it’s alright that Ron is moving on… why can’t I?” she thought to herself, a pair of hazel eyes, warm and inviting coming to mind. She pulled on a loose hair absent-mindedly, before snapping out of her train of thought. Pulling on a black dress over a white t-shirt, Hermione chooses a more muggle attire, hoping that she was presentable enough, she stepped into the fireplace with floo powder in hand. “Diagon Alley.” She spoke as green flames erupted around her.

***

The streets were filled with witches and wizards of every age, some of which Hermione wondered if they would be her students. It was only 10 in the morning and the streets were already becoming packed, last-minute shoppers such as herself really feeling the heat. With the apothecary and the stationary store under her belt Hermione slid past two loitering wizards outside of Flourish and Blotts, making her way through the throngs of people waiting to pay for their school books. Thankfully after all these years Hermione had memorized the entire layout of the shop, giving her a major advantage to those wandering around lost. Scanning through the S’s she stopping, “there you are,” she said out loud, plucking the copy of The Scars of Salem off the shelf. It wouldn’t hurt the students to learn a little muggle history with their history of magic. It would only be for those students like she once was, trying too hard to get outstanding on their owls. Stepping into the lineup Hermione opened the book and began skimming the pages, hoping that she might get a good chunk in before she reached the till.

“Mom, are you sure it’s okay if I’m not a Gryffindor…” a young boy ahead of her looked up at the older woman beside him.

“Of course, your father was a Ravenclaw remember, he would be honored if you joined his house.” She tousled his hair affectionately.

“What if I’m a Slytherin…?” he asked, his brows knit together.

“You know, Merlin was a Slytherin…” Hermione interrupted, “and without him, Arthur would’ve never found Excalibur.”

He shrunk back sheepishly behind his mother, “you hear that honey? Slytherin doesn’t sound so bad does it?” She turned to Hermione mouthing a quick thank you. Hermione smiled and nodded, returning her gaze back to the book in her hands. The line passed quickly, and she paid for her book, stuffing it in her messenger bag. Stepping back out onto the street she heard a familiar voice call out her name.

“Mione! Wait!” she turned around squinting, before finally resting her gaze on Harry and Ginny. They pushed through the whispering crowds who turned to stare at them. Hermione’s face reddened at the unwanted attention. “Happy late birthday! How have you been? Did you do anything special?”

“Harry, Ginny,” she smiled at the couple who were holding hands. “I’m great! Just getting the last of my supplies before the school year starts.”

“McGonagall told me that you took the position, the book Harry got you was perfectly timed hey?” Ginny smiled awkwardly.

“No kidding,” she laughed. “How have you guys been?”

“Good! Just getting some errands done, I need a new broom, mine was demolished in the last game.” Harry rolled his eyes.

“Well if you didn’t get in the way of your seeker things wouldn’t have happened the way they did.” Harry chastised her playfully.

“It’s not my fault he’s built like a brick shithouse and insists on getting in everyone’s way!” she countered, the two smiling at each other infectiously.

“I’m glad the seasons are going good this year Gin,” Hermione smiled, “try not to break another broom.”

“I told you it wasn’t my – “Ginny’s voice became muffled in Hermione’s mind. Ron stood not more than 20 feet away, staring at Hermione with his arm around her. Gemma. He looked full of guilt, she felt a mixture of pure anger and sadness hit her all at once. It almost knocked the air out of her lungs, if she was alone, she would’ve become a crying mess. But all these people around her made the restricting sensation tighter and tighter, restricting the flow of air almost completely.

“I should’ve led with that he was here with us Mione, I am sorry.” Harry’s voice snapped her out of her haze, directing her gaze away from the couple across the street.

“No, no, it's okay.” Hermione tried her best to seem strong. “It was only a matter of time before I ran into them.” She nervously toyed with the strap on her bag, keeping her eyes focused on Harry and Ginny. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt an arm around her waist.

“Fancy meeting you guys here,” Neville’s voice appeared beside her and Hermione immediately melted, she took in a breath not realizing she was completely holding it.

“How are you, Neville?” Ginny weaseled her way in-between the two, throwing her arms affectionately around his neck.

“I’m great, just came to steal Hermione away for a birthday lunch.” Neville pulled away from Ginny smiling brightly, his hand returning to the spot-on Hermione’s waist. Ginny and Harry looked at the two of them inquisitively. Before Ginny could pummel them with questions Hermione spoke up.

“Yes, he is, now if you don’t mind us. We should get going, if we don’t hurry, we might miss our reservations!” she stammered at her words, heart pounding in her chest. “I’ll owl you before the school year starts and we can get together!” she shouted behind her, dragging Neville away in the direction of a café.  
“See you another time guys!” Neville shouted out to them. As they slipped into the crowd Hermione noticed Ron staring at her, his browed furrowed and tense. How dare he? Hermione thought to himself, as Neville led her through people, she found herself wanting to scream at Ron. How dare you be angry seeing me with someone else, even if we aren’t actually together. You spent our entire engagement fucking someone else. Who gives you the right? “This alleyway, over here.” Neville interrupted her inner monologue. 

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you.” Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as the two slipped into an alleyway, out of the sights of their friends. The two still linked at the hands, Hermione nervously pulled her hand free, noticing that hers was clammy and red.

“I’ll take an I owe you please and thank you,” he lightheartedly joked, smiling down at her. “I was coming out of Eeylops when I spotted Ron and then you. You had a serious damsel in distress look about you.”

“Oh, my hero,” she said sarcastically. “To be honest with you it’s the first time I’ve seen Ron since, well, since the wedding.” She took a deep breath, slumping a bit against the wall.

“Do you need anything?” Neville asked her, moving in to stand a bit closer.

“No, I think that you becoming my beard for the moment helped ease the tension.” She, “it’s just a shock I wasn’t expecting today. I think I’ll have to have a nice glass of wine about it tonight.”

“Well, how about one now birthday girl.” Neville asked coyly, “I didn’t forget yesterday, I just know how you feel about them.” Hermione melted a bit; Ron always celebrated her birthday on her birthday. He never gave a shit about what she wanted when it came to that, it always ended in tears and yelling for them.

“I was promised a birthday lunch date, I have a couple of witnesses too.” She felt the smile return to her face, he held out his hand and she took it, leading them away.

The café just down the street was decently packed, not enough tables for how many families were trying to cram themselves in. Hermione shrugged to Neville, before suggesting they head somewhere a little off the beaten path. Apparating from Diagon Alley the two landed in Muggle London, Hermione promising the reputation of a fish and chip place. Maybe a pint or two would soothe her aching wounds. The pub was quiet, the food great. “My dad loved this place, we used to stop here every time we were in London at least once. Usually every day we had lunch here, they have everything you could want out of a pub scene. Plus, it’s before their lunch rush so it should be quiet. It's not far from here, just a short walk now.” They rounded the corner from the quiet alleyway they had apparated into, the street wasn't overly busy for a Tuesday afternoon.

“What’s your dad like Mione?” Neville asked, sticking his hands in his pockets.

“He’s truly a brilliant man, I take after him more than anything, well except I have mum’s sense of humor.” Hermione smiled, “he used to be able to cheat me out of cards every single time, then make me laugh about it. You could never ever get mad at him, ever. He was just the happiest man, sorry…” she trailed off, “he is the happiest man.”

“If he could, he’d be here, you know that right?” Neville reached out, pulling her into a quick side hug. “I know that if things had changed, my parents would be too. I know how you’re feeling, and it’s hard. But if you need anything, I am here.” She nodded, wiping the tears that spilled.

“I wish we were closer, you and I, during school.” Hermione lamented.

“Well you were a little out of my reach then, but I think everything happens for a reason. I know that since you and I are now colleagues we can actually help each other out. I can’t wait for you to meet the new transfigurations professor. Patroclus Yates, that man knows more about reversing spells than anyone I’ve met.” Neville squeezed her a little closer. “If anyone can help you restore your parent’s memory, he might just be the guy to do it.”

“Thank you, Neville. It’s good to have you around. After the wedding, I lost most of my friends with the Ministry, and a lot of the other people around were just Ron’s friends. I’ll admit, I’ve been really lonely.” Hermione stopped walking, standing in front of the pub. “We’re here, I hope you’ll like it.”

“You’ve got good taste, I’m sure I’ll love it.” Neville’s smile was contagious, breaking Hermione out of her pity party. He was so dorky and endearing, not at all what she was used to. Don’t get feelings, you need a friend Hermione, otherwise, you’ll end up alone. She chastised herself again, trying to swallow back the desire to keep his arm wrapped around her. He walked ahead, opening the door for her.

“Why thank you.” She curtsied playfully. He bowed, chuckling at her. Together they walked in and took a seat in a booth in the corner, a gruff looking man coming to take their order. “I’ll take the fish and chips, side of ketchup, and a pint of Guinness.” Hermione looked over at Neville, her heart betraying her slightly. It had been a long time since she was the object of someone’s affections and it was almost paining her to not have something. Neville didn’t strike her as the friends with benefits type though, and she wouldn’t ask that of him. Her pride was far too sensitive to take that hit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Sorry about the lack of chapter yesterday, I was braving the world to get my groceries stocked up while I still can!


	5. Get a Grip

There was one thing that Hermione was impressed with, and that was Neville’s conversational skills. He went from this shy, awkward teenager, and became something else entirely. He was one person Hermione felt that she could say was changed for the better after the war, which definitely wasn’t normally the case. She remembered how some of their closest friends changed; Luna became a recluse, Seamus became addicted to drugs, and Dean Thomas turned to alcohol, just to name a few. A lot of them had been uninvited to their gatherings. Hermione knew she wasn’t much better, she self-harmed heavily after the war, after the night Ron found her blackout drunk trying to carve the scars of ‘mudblood’ on her arm. He and Harry sat her down and got her some help. She shook her head a little bit, banishing all the negative thoughts.

“Thank you for this, Neville, the last few days have been a breath of fresh air.” She smiled softly at him.

“Anytime, seriously.” Neville smiled at her, his eyes softening. “You weren’t kidding about this place, it’s fantastic. Thanks for introducing me. We’ll have to come again.” He finished up his plate, setting it aside and resting his arms on the table, leaning toward her slightly.

“I agree, its better than coming here alone. Though I will miss it during the school year.” Hermione dipped the last of her chips into some ketchup.

“I have to admit, I am looking forward to going back. It’ll be good to have a routine.” He said.

“That is one thing I am so looking forward to,” she tucked a stray hair behind her ear, “a change of schedule. I was tired of the same old thing, and this is far more rigid. I miss the school lifestyle, and this is the next best thing.”

“I had a feeling you’d think that it’s something I’ve always admired about you. Your dedication to learning.” Hermione’s cheeks reddened; half flattered half embarrassed. “Anyways, what are your plans for the rest of the day?”

“Well I meant to stop by and grab new stationery, and I’ll grab new robes as well.” Hermione hoped internally that Ron and his new fiancé would be long gone.

“Want some company, I have an order for robes I have to pick up anyways,” Neville said, and Hermione had a hard time reading his expression. Was he inviting her just for the sake of convenience? Or could it be he enjoyed her company as honestly as she did? Whatever it was, she was glad she hadn’t bored him yet.

“Sure, I’d love the company.” She smiled, and before she could take out her wallet to pay for her food Neville shooed her away.

“It’s my treat, birthday lunch, remember?” he smiled, thanking the man for the great meal. They got up and left the restaurant to find a secluded place to apparate from. He held out his arm for Hermione to take “shall we?” She nodded, looping her arm through his, holding on tightly. The two entered Diagon Alley, which at quarter to one was decently still packed with people. Neville never once let go of her arm the entire way to Madam Malkin’s, ensuring she was firmly pinned to his side, not that she complained. He was a good five inches taller than her, which was shorter than Ron. Something she would be lying if she said she didn’t like.

With Neville’s help, Hermione managed to find a set of smart black and lavender robes, a burgundy set, and some standard black robes for teaching. All things she could mix and match. “Nan was a woman of many styles, and boy did she make sure I understood them,” Neville said embarrassed as he paid for his rather large parcel of robes. The two spend far more time than necessary together walking and talking through Diagon Alley, it was nearly four in the early evening before they finished up. Hermione ended up talking him into returning to Flourish and Blotts, perusing the shelves together to find something new for Neville to read. No surprise another book for Herbology ended up in his grasp, some interests never change Hermione supposed.

They apparated back to her apartment and she insisted on giving him something other than plants to read about. What Hermione didn’t see was how Neville smiled at her, flushed all the way into his ears, watching her light up as she talked about all the books she loved.

“Okay, now I need a full report of at least one of these books when I see you Sunday,” Hermione demanded playfully, shaking a finger at him.

“Yes, Professor Granger, if you insist.” He laughed, tucking it under his arm. She went up on her tiptoes, half hugging him through all the things in his arms. “I will see you Sunday okay?” he said, muffled by her mane of hair.

“Sounds great to me,” she pulled away slightly, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. Her lips tickled at the feeling of the stubble there, it sent shivers down her spine. “Thank you, again, for whisking me away today.” She pulled away and Neville went tomato red, a grin plastered on his face.

“You’re very welcome.” He pulled away, “I’ll owl you soon, let me know if you need anything.” She opened the door, nodding.

“Of course, get back to Hogwarts safe okay?” Hermione leaned against the open doorway, one leg out trying to keep Crookshanks from escaping.

“I will Mione, see you soon.” Neville walked down the stairs, slipping out of the side door of The Three Broomsticks. From the bottom of the stairs, Madam Rosmerta looked up her, a knowing smile on her face. Not wanting to answer any questions the older woman would have, Hermione turned fire red and slipped back into her apartment, knowing what that face meant exactly. She leaned against the doorway, catching her reflection on the mirror to her left. Her face was flushed, hair coming out of the bun on the top of her head. She looked wild, but the smile on her face was wide. She ran to her desk, pulling out a stack of parchment, beginning to write another unsent letter to her mom.

***

When she opened her eyes, she was staring up at the ceiling and her eyes burned with tears. She sat up and looked around, she was back in the house that used to belong to her and Ron. She was in the living room, the worn brown couch, and the second hand coffee table. The walls were a soft white, the color they fought over. Hermione tried to get up but hissed in pain, an open wound on her inner thigh burned, blood dripping down onto the floor. It seeped out, staining Hermione’s white gown, she was in her wedding dress. She applied pressure, the tears streaming down her cheeks. Voices all around her whispered;

“You’re unloved.”

“You’ll never be good enough.”

“Stupid Mudblood.”

She slammed her palms against her skull, “stop that, shut up,” she seethed. Covering her ears the voices got louder and louder, till their words echoed against the walls in her mind. Suddenly Bellatrix Lestrange stood in front of her, grinning madly. Hermione could barely see her through the tears, “no, you’re dead!” she screamed at her, Bellatrix just smiling wider than humanly possible. She slowly stepped towards Hermione from across the living room, mouthing words with no sound. But Hermione understood, the words in her mind slowly matching the wicked woman’s lips. Suddenly it all stopped a terrible silence.

“Crucio.”

Hermione woke up screaming, her throat sore and raw. The breath sucked out of her lungs, tears streaming down her face. Crookshanks cowered across the room, and Hermione stopped, hyperventilating. It had been a long time since she dreamt of Bellatrix Lestrange, she put her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. Her sleep shirt clung to her skin which was drenched in sweat. “Fuck.” She whispered to herself, the tears slowly stopping. “She’s dead Hermione, she died, she not coming back. You’re okay.” She repeated to herself over and over again. Getting up out of bed she threw open the window, the cool dawn air bringing her blood pressure back down. Crookshanks apprehensively made his way over to her, rubbing against her calf. She looked down, “I’m sorry old boy, I’m so sorry.” Scooping him up in her arms he purred and she held him close. “I thought the nightmares stopped Crook; guess I was wrong.”

**

Hermione spent the next few days moping, laying on her couch for hours at a time. Not eating, not reading, barely sleeping. Every few hours or so she would summon some of her belongings into a box, knowing she had to do something to get ready for her move to Hogwarts. It was Friday night now, and she only had barely a day to get everything together.

She had gotten letters from Harry and Ginny separately, apologizing for the awkwardness in Diagon Alley, she had gotten one from McGonagall detailing what would be provided for her in her new chambers, and finally one from Neville. It stated how happy he was to have seen so much of her, and that he started reading the muggle book she sent with him, how he loved it. Normally that last letter would be something to send her heart racing, but after the lack of sleep and the nightmares resurging, she was a void. She wrote to her parents again, telling them that she was falling into old patterns, worried she might start to harm herself again. It helped the nightmares stop once, why wouldn’t it help again. She ended up ripping that letter up, swearing loudly. Hermione stormed away from her desk, pulling out a vial of sleeping draught, “one night of real rest and I’m going to be better. I have to be better.” She told herself, slipping under the covers and downing the vial in one gulp. “Goodnight Crookshanks.” She reached out patting him before sleep overtook her. Finally, a dreamless sleep.


	6. Humidty

McGonagall’s sensible pumps clicked against the stone pumps as she led Hermione through the halls, leading her past the courtyard and towards classroom 4F. She was nervous, bags summoned to follow her as they went. Crookshanks had long abandoned her, slinking off into the shadows. Nibbling onto her bottom lip McGonagall unlocked the door, giving her a small smile. “Now your office is through the far door there, there is a portrait of Professor Binns, you can make your password with him.”

“Has he left then?” Hermione looked at her puzzled.

“Oh yes, once I told him it was time to let someone else take a crack at it, I think he was relieved. The poor man never really knew he was dead.” She seemed relieved herself, as he could’ve taken it a lot worse. Hermione just nodded. “Now behind the portrait is your new chambers,” McGonagall waved her hand, sending the bags soaring into the open office door. “Any questions?”

“No Minerva, I think I can handle it from here.” Hermione smiled, touching a desk next to her. Come Monday morning it would be filled with anxious fifth years, hopefully, ready to learn.

“Alright Miss Granger, I will see you at welcome the feast tonight. If you need anything at all, my door is always open.” Minerva shot her a knowing look as if she could see right through the façade.

“Always.” Hermione forced a smile to appear as McGonagall turned to walk away, leaving Hermione in her empty classroom. She wandered through, stopping at her old desk, and smiled. It wasn’t that long ago she was sitting in this room for the first time, watching her classmates be lulled to sleep by Binns’ monotone voice. Hermione didn’t care about that then, just excited to be part of something as awe-inspiring as the wizarding world. She remembered all the times she’d let Ron and Harry copy off of her tests and papers, how easy it was then for her to let them have an easy pass. Hermione smiled, making her way through the door at the back of the room. Her office was small but packed full of reading material. A large wooden desk sat in the center of the room, a neat stack of parchment on the left-hand corner. She couldn’t help but grin, it was her wet dream. Professor Binns looked at her from across the room.

“Welcome back Miss Grant, are you ready to see your chambers?” he said in the same old drone. She chuckled a bit, even the portrait of the old bastard couldn’t remember her actually name.  
“Yes, I am sir, and could you set the password as Gillyweed please.” The Professor nodded, Hermione thought about Neville, giving him something that would be easy to remember. She hoped that he would feel comfortable popping by whenever. As she walked through the portrait hole she was greeted by a modest, but cozy room. The layout was very similar to her apartment in Hogsmeade, except that instead of the bedroom being part of the rest of the room, it was its own actual room. Making the chambers seem that much larger than it probably was. “I love magic.” She whispered as she watched her bags and boxed unpack themselves comfortably. She noticed the soft beige walls, dark wood floors, rich burgundy couches, accents of gold. It reflected her Gryffindor house perfectly, simple and not as gaudy as the common room she grew up in.

Watching the last of her belongings settle in their designated places, Hermione changed into the black set of her new robes. Tucking her hair in a smart knot at the base of her skull she allowed a few hairs to break free, knowing that there was no point fighting them later. Catching a look at herself in the mirror she smiled, Neville’s nan really gave him a good taste.

She walked across the familiar courtyard, seeing a little bit of the golden trio reflected in every corner. The good memories of Hogwarts trumping the bad with ease. For the first time in years, Hermione felt at home again, safe, and warm. She walked towards the greenhouses, hoping that she might just corner Neville for a tour and introduction of the newer sections of Hogwarts, Professors included. The houses were warm, her robes beginning to stick to her skin slightly. She went all the way to the end before she found him, Neville’s sleeves were rolled up to just below the elbows, his arm submerged in a pot of soil. His hair hung in his face, no longer neatly combed back as he perspired with the moisture hanging heavy in the world. In his own world, Hermione summoned her teacher's voice.

“Excuse me, Mr. Longbottom, I have an empty space on my desk where your paper should be.” His head shot up, a huge smile breaking out.

“I think I have a few more hours to submit it.” Neville pulled his hand out, pushing the hair out of his eyes which left a streak of dirt across his forehead.

“I’m sure we can find extra credit for you,” Hermione said, her tone very suggestive. The two both blushed, “Um, you think you could spare an hour for me? You know after I ignored your owl for a few days.”

“I thought I might’ve scared you off honestly,” he lamented. She shook her head, coming around the side of the table to stand before him.

“It was me, I’m so sorry to ever make you think you did something wrong.” Hermione felt her throat tighten, seeing the concern in Neville’s brows. She reached out, gently taking his hand in hers. “I’ve been distracted, packing, getting ready, being in my own head. You know how it gets sometimes.”

“I understand,” he lightly brushed the knuckles on her hand with his thumb, sending tingles running down Hermione’s spine. She only then realized how close they were to each other, Neville slightly hunched over to look at her closely.

“I promise next time I won’t get lost up in there.” She used her free hand to tap her temple with her index finger.

“You can tell me what’s going on if you need it.” He moved his hand slightly so that her fingers became interlocked with his. She looked down at their hands, at how small hers looked. Hermione didn’t even care at the soil that now dirtied them, even though normally she would rush to the bathrooms to scrub herself clean.

“I’ve been having nightmares again,” the words tumbled out before she could hold them back. “They’re different every night, but yet still similar. I’m in my old house, it feels so real I can smell the fresh paint. I am hurting myself, in some way or another, and I hear these awful voices.” She is talking without breathing in at this point as if speaking it out loud were sucking the breath out of her. Her eyes fell to the floor. “Some days it sounds like Bellatrix Lestrange, calling me a mudblood and using crucio on me. Other times its Ron, Harry, and everyone else cornering me. How no one will believe my side of it, because I’m not enough. Yet I never fight it, I always stay.” A chill ran through her, and regardless of the heat outside, she felt cold.

“Hermione, have you seen someone about these dreams.” Neville cupped her face tenderly, forcing her to look up at him.

“A muggle therapist, for about a year after the war. But nothing after that.” She admitted.

“So, no one magical then?” he prodded.

“Never, it was always so hard to find someone to tell this too because they always chalked it up as temporary. The great Hermione Granger could figure it out.” She spoke quietly at the end, ashamed that she really couldn’t figure it out.

“I know better than anyone how it feels to have that vile woman in your head… but you can’t bully yourself, no one knows everything Mione,” Neville tucked the stray hair behind her ear, “not even the most brilliant witch I’ve ever met.”

“Oh, who is she? I’d like to meet her sometime.” Hermione joked, trying to ease her nerves. It had been years since she bore herself like this to someone else. It was always under the fake disguise of a soldier, serving time overseas in some kind of war. The corner of his mouth tugged up in the corner, not wanting to completely make a joke out of the situation. Something about him felt like how Hogwarts made her feel, taken care of, protected. It allowed her to feel honest, and it was selfless. How in a few short days did she feel this comfortable around him? It was a foreign concept to her. “I haven’t scared you off now have I?” she said under her breath, her voice wavering.

“Never,” he said firmly. Slowly she melted towards him, his voice music to her ears. The distance slowly closed between the two of them, Hermione gazed deep into his eyes wanting nothing more than to kiss him sweetly at that moment, his lips were full and soft, beckoning her. But instead, she stopped herself, squeezing his hand. This brought Neville back to earth as Hermione’s heart screamed in her chest, beating wildly. She imagined a small fae shaking a door inside of her, shouting let him in. She worried though, barring the door with a lock and a sign that simply read self-doubt. She must’ve imagined that Neville would’ve kissed her back, surely, she was just being ridiculous.

“Then I will come to you next time, I promise okay?” He took his hand on her cheek away, his eyes softening. The brief moment of disappointment passing for him, she could see his thoughts running a mile a minute.

“You better,” Neville pulled his other hand free, reaching into his back pocket. He pulled out his wallet, handing Hermione a card. It said: Killmonger and Sons; Veteran Counselling, Private and Group Sessions Available. “The group sessions helped me a lot, so if there is ever a time that I can’t give you what you need, you can always come to one of these sessions with me.”

“Thank you, I will.” She tucked the card in her robe pocket, making a mental note to put it somewhere safe when she returned to her chambers. “There is one thing you can do for me though.”

“Name it.” She smiled at him, turning the situation down a different road.

“I think I need some pre-feast introductions; you think you can get me all sorted?” she wiped her now clammy hands together.

“Let me get cleaned up, and I’m all yours.” Neville looked down at his hands embarrassingly, which had smeared dirt all over Hermione’s. “I’ll meet you outside the great hall in fifteen minutes?”

“I’ll see you there,” she walked away, stopping at the doorway to look at him briefly. Her heart skipped a beat, watching him rub his hands off on a rag hanging off the bench. He waved his wand, righting the room once more. Making the rain mist the plants he had finished preparing. She slipped out the door, heat clinging to her more than ever. Hermione cursed to herself, regretting the moment she pulled away. Hermione fanned herself exasperated, clearly, there was something much more in the air than humidity, and matters of the heart were fickle, especially with her lack of experience she knew she had a long way to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for being patient! I was swept up in a map making project and didn't save time to write! Hope you enjoyed.


	7. Welcome to Hogwarts

Another thing that surprised Hermione is that Neville Longbottom became quite the social butterfly, easing her into her new spot as a member of the staff with grace. While there were a few returning professors; Flitwick, Hagrid, Sinistra, Trelawney, Babbling, and Hooch, there were just as many new additions. Firstly, Neville introduced to the new Muggle Studies professor, Columbus Newell. He was a portly elderly gentleman, who had clearly indulged on the finer things for most of his life. While he was muggle-born, he hailed from a rather prestigious family in America. He had dark, thick-rimmed glasses that matched his equally thick and dark hair. He was rather comedic, welcoming her with a tight bear hug that nearly took Hermione off her feet. Secondly, David Alfonso, a pure-blood wizard from Spain, who had taken up the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. He was a rather striking-looking man, his accent hard to understand. Hermione turned to Neville after, “he doesn’t look Spanish, does he?”  
“He takes after his French mother, there is no doubt there,” Neville whispered back to her.

Thirdly, Hermione got to meet the Professor she was most looking forward to meeting. Patroclus Yates, Transfiguration. He was younger than she anticipated, not much older than Hermione’s parents. He looked like your everyday Grecian man, olive skin, deep brown eyes, and a mop of curly salt and pepper hair. If Hermione’s mother were here, she would be swooning. She knew right away she liked him, it was only confirmed after she was sent away with a bag full of books, that just was the icing on the cake.

“I thought you might get along,” Neville remarked, smiling down at her. She leafed through the books; some were ones she had never even heard of.

“He’s brilliant Neville,” Hermione grinned, “I can’t wait to pick his brain.”

“The only two who you haven’t seen are Draco Malfoy and Percy Weasley,” Neville said, Hermione looked at him.

“Percy?” she raised her eyebrows, face falling.

“It’s his first year too, he’s taken up Arithmancy,” Neville said, sticking his hand in her pockets.

“I haven’t seen him in a very long time, it should be good to catch up.” She faked, thinking of Ron.

“Well we still have a few hours before the students begin arriving, shall we see our old tower?” Neville steered clear of the Weasley talk with ease, looking at her playfully. She just nodded, shooting him a grin.  
***

Gryffindor tower had barely changed since their days at school, the same elegant curtains, roaring fireplace. The common area covered floor to ceiling with red and gold. Hermione wandered over in front of the fireplace, feeling its familiar warmth on the front of her legs. “It’s so quiet.” She called out to Neville, who was across the room messing with an old record player. A melody she can’t place her finger on begins to play, as Neville wanders over to her. His hand brushes against hers, leaving sparks to shoot up her arm. Hermione finds herself blushing again, holding herself back from linking her fingers with his once again.

She felt like a young witch again, full of awkwardness and stubbornness she had no idea she possessed. She wondered if Neville could hear her heart hammering away in its cage, he was close enough that she could smell the freshness of his cologne. Lemongrass, fresh soil, and the smell after it rains. She closed her eyes breathing deeply. “It feels strange to be her right now, almost like everyone will come down the stairs. Harry and Ron bickering over the last round of wizards chess.”

“Seamus’ loud laugh.” Neville has a nostalgic look on his face.  
“You, quietly following. Your dad’s wand in your hand.” Hermione glanced up at him sideways, he looked at the ground bashfully.

“You, a book tucked under one arm, rolling your eyes.” He jested. She knocked him lightly with her elbow, nose scrunched up but smile in her eyes.

“Don’t forget my big bushy hair.” She smoothed her robes down, looking deep into the coals.

“I happen to like your hair.” He complimented her. “I always thought it looked better wild than smoothed down to your head.” She turned to him, taking his head in her hands, squinting at him. “What?”

“I’m just trying to see if someone but a charm on you to say that,” she half-joked. He laughed, reaching up to hold her hands there gently by the wrists.

“Most men would rather deny a hard truth than face it.” He quoted. “So, it is a good thing that I’m not most men Hermione.”

“You finished it…” she trailed off; her eyes softened.

“And I enjoyed it, though I think I’ll have to borrow the next one off of you.” His hands trailed down her arms, past her shoulders till they sat in the small of her waist.

“I think I can arrange that,” Hermione just barely said it out loud, her hands finding themselves wandering into down, placing themselves against his chest. Neville gently pulled her closer, till their faces were mere inches apart. The moment lasted an eternity as Hermione waited for him to close the distance between them. Her nerves planting her firmly in place, her breath caught in her throat. She knew she could trust him, the boy with the crooked teeth and kind eyes, the man she had known for most of her life.

“Now can I do what I wanted to do in the greenhouses?” his voice was so soft Hermione scarcely heard him. She slowly nodded, finding herself scared shitless. His left hand made its way up, cupping her face in his hands he pressed his lips against hers. It was chaste at first, like testing the water before you take the plunge. Hermione’s hands wound themselves into his shirt as she found herself deepening the kiss. His lips were soft, his breath tasted sweet in her mouth as his hands trembled at her sides. She had only ever been kissed like this once, outside the tent at Bill and Fleurs wedding. As Neville’s lips moved against her own, clumsy and both unexperienced she found that memory to fade away. This moment replacing it easily. He held her in place as they slowed their pace and pulled away. He pressed his forehead against hers, both of them breathing heavily. “I’ve been thinking about that for a long time.” He whispered, Hermione, smiling widely looking deep into his eyes.

“Me too.” She pulled him in by his shirt for another soul-searing kiss.

***  
The Great Hall was filled with students, Hermione sat beside Neville Longbottom an empty seat to her left, watching the kids fill the hall. McGonagall stood at the podium, Hermione getting chills at the sight. McGonagall was truly well suited for the position of Headmistress, Hermione felt humbled to be in her own position. She watched Professor Newell stood at the lead, a gaggle of first years behind him. They all looked around in pure awe, their mouths agape. Hermione smiled, remembering the first time she saw the floating candles and the night sky bewitched to twinkle above them. “Students please find your seats, as the feast will commence shortly.” McGonagall paused while the students got comfortable.

“Is this seat taken?” a familiar voice piped up beside her. Hermione jumped a little and turned to see Percy Weasley hesitating, his hand on the back of the chair on her left. She shook her head, motioning for him to sit. Hermione felt her anxiety heighten, sensing her distress Neville reached under the table and gave her hand a brief squeeze. She looked at him with a thankful smile, to which he returned before they both looked back to McGonagall.

“Now, firstly we have two new Professor’s joining us this year. Professor Weasley will be taking up the helm of Arithmancy, and Professor Granger will be taking over for Professor Binns as head of History of Magic. Please welcome them and wish them luck this year.” McGonagall paused, “secondly, its time for our first years to put on the sorting hat, where they will find their Hogwarts house. In alphabetical order please children, so that Professor Newell may be swift.”

“Pollyanna Atchison.” Professor Newell called out to the first student, a girl whose eyes were as wide as saucers. She made her way up to the stool, nearly having to hop up onto it. Professor Newell placed the hat upon her head.

“Hmmm,” the hat pondered aloud, “you are filled with kindness, loyalty, and meekness.” Her eyes widened even further. The whole hall was silent, “but have no fear, for the meek shall inherit the earth, or so I am told. Better be, HUFFLEPUFF.” Pollyanna looked relieved, sliding off the stool and running towards the Hufflepuff table which had exploded with cheering.

The sorting ceremony was short, as this year there were just shy of one hundred students. Percy turned to her, “Twenty-five Gryffindors, seventeen Slytherins, twenty Hufflepuffs, and nineteen Ravenclaws. Not a bad spread of students if you ask me.”

“I have to agree, I’m so used to it leaning so heavily towards Gryffindor and Slytherin so this will be a nice change of pace.” She watched the last of the first years make their way to the tables, the cheering dying down.

“Now, let the feast begin!” McGonagall called out as food began appearing in front of the students, who happily began piling their plates with every food one could imagine. McGonagall took her seat in the center of the table, turning to Draco Malfoy on her right. The two seemed deep in conversation. Hermione watched the way he talked, calm, cool, and collected. His hair was longer than when they were teens, it tied back at the nape, pieces of platinum tucked behind his right ear. Malfoy looked older, thick lines between his brows, and he was lankier than she remembered. He looked so much like Narcissa now, which Hermione was sure was a sigh of relief for him. She found herself hoping that their contact is limited, feeling a familiar anxiousness tugging in the back of her mind.

“So, Hermione, are you happy to be free of the shackles of the ministry,” Percy said lightheartedly, scooping some mashed potatoes onto his plate. “Overjoyed, I’m sure. It took a while to sink in, but now that I’m here it’s like a thousand pounds is lifted off my shoulders personally.” Hermione just gawked at him, unsure of who this man was in front of her. The Percy Weasley she knew was so tightly wound she was sure he’d lift off into space if someone so much as grazed the stick up his ass. Before she could speak, he continued on. “I hope you and I can work well together Hermione, regardless of what happened before.”

“Well, I’d like to think so.” She cut in, trying to cut the conversation short. “Now if you’ll excuse me?” Percy nodded as she turned to Neville, her expression filled with annoyance. This just earned a laugh from Neville.

“Sorry, I should’ve warned you.” He said.

“I can forgive you this time, and this time only.” She winked at him before digging into the full plate before her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter for you to get by, I couldn't get the common room scene out of my head last night so I was up till 2 getting it out. There is more to come, much more, don't you worry.


	8. Know-It-Alls

“Please turn your books to page two hundred and fifteen,” Hermione said loudly, projecting her voice across the classroom. It was her fourth class of the week, and her nerves slightly lessened. While they still were there, she grew more confident with every class. Though this was the group of students she was most worried about, first years. Being second of the day she felt that there was a lot more pressure to keep the students from falling asleep through the rest of their day’s classes. “For the next month, we will start by learning about these walls. Hogwarts, a history, is lengthy. But we will start with something I’m sure all of you have some grasp at. Can anyone guess what that is?”

There was a very brief pause of silence before a hand shot in the air, Hermione smiled, as a young boy peeked between his classmates. “Is it the founder's Professor Granger?”

“You’re correct…?” She hesitated.

“Wilbur Gibbs, Professor.” He smiled bashfully. He was a sweet-looking boy, thick brown hair, and lots of freckles dotting his slightly chubby cheeks. Wilbur had a sparkle in his baby blue eyes, Hermione couldn’t help but admire the spirit there.

“Well Mr. Gibbs, you are absolutely correct. Now, who can tell me who is the founder of their house, Slytherins? We will start with you.” She called out to the left half of the room. After a while, one girl hesitantly put her hand half up.

“Salazar Slytherin.” She said timidly.

“Very good, Miss?” Hermione prodded, she recognized her immediately.

“Matilda Prewett, ma’am.” The young Slytherin was tall for her age, even sitting she sat high above the boys around her, long straight red hair. She was a cousin to Ron, and Hermione gave the girl a knowing smile, which seemed to ease her nerves. Hermione remembered her from Bill and Fleur’s wedding and she remembered watching Matilda dancing on her father’s feet, he had passed during the war, unfortunately, but she was shorter when Hermione last saw her, still retaining the same sweetness about her though. The kind that Hermione recognized Molly having. There was something about the Prewett women that just set them up to become incredible witches.

“Now for the Gryffindors?” She turned to the right side, and Wilbur’s hand shot up again eagerly.

“Godric Gryffindor, Professor.” He was confident, the same way she was at that age. Hermione had definite flashbacks to her years, annoying every fiber of Professor Snape’s being with her Know-it-all attitude. She could see the looks in his fellow student’s eyes that they already couldn’t stand him.

“Very good Mr. Gibbs, and Miss. Prewett.” Hermione smiled at her class. “Now, let's begin with the page in front of you.” She briefly looked at the seating arrangement in front of her. “Mr. Nott, can you please start us off with the first paragraph please.” She sat back in her chair to follow along on the lesson, pausing when necessary. The first lesson would always be the most boring, but it was needed. Hermione dotted down notes beside her. As the lesson ended, she stood up from her desk, opting to stand in front of it now. “Now, I want to hear from you. Write on parchment what you want to learn about most, what really speaks to you about the history of magic. This was I will be sure to make sure everyone gets to hear about what they want to. You may choose to be anonymous, but by signing it as yourself you will give me a bit of insight into who you are. What piques your interest in my class.” She paused looked at them, wide-eyed, and clearly overwhelmed. “You won’t have to hand this in till next week though, so don’t worry, and take your time. It must be one hundred words long; which I assure you will be the shortest homework you will have to do in your time at Hogwarts.” Some of her students groaned at the mention of longer homework. “Now go, head to lunch and I will see you next week! Where we get to learn of the magical laws! Exciting stuff I promise.” She yelled out at the majority got up quickly to leave her class.

She sat down only to have Wilbur bowl over the other first-years to get to her desk. “Professor Granger?”

“Yes, Mr. Gibbs?” she smiled, leaning in towards him.

“Does it have to be one hundred words or less?” he said, and Hermione could sense his anxiousness.

“You know what? I’ll let you make it longer if its easier for you, only if you can promise me that you’ll write it out in two hundred words or less.” He looked relieved by this.

“You bet Professor!” he smiled brightly, the gap between his two front teeth large. “I’ll see you next week!” he called out enthusiastically as he practically ran out of the classroom. Hermione just chuckled to herself, astonished at how much he was like her at that age.  
**  
Sitting on top of one of the many stations throughout the greenhouses, Hermione kicked her feet out, coming nowhere near the floor. The Sunday morning was heavy with humidity, magic practically humming in the air. She dressed sensibly this time, only hiding her wardrobe with thick robes now hanging across the room. “Which one is this again?” Neville called out to her, hoisting a bag of fertilizer over his shoulder, groaning a bit at the weight.

“Wilbur Gibbs,” Hermione laughed at him, his face turning red at the effort. “Are you sure you don’t need help? You know you can always use magic?”

“No, but thank you. I like to do things the difficult way don’t you know?” Neville smiled through the pain of it, throwing the bag down onto the table beside Hermione. Almost making her lift up into the air, she just raised her hands. “Dragon manure.” Neville pointed to the bag.

“He’s hilarious Neville, you’ll love him. Just like a mini-me.” Hermione smiled at him as he ripped open the bag, its pungent scent filling the air. “You should’ve seen his first paper of the year; I swear he must’ve rewritten it ten times to make it exactly two hundred words.”

“You know we could’ve always seen each other after?” Neville reminded her, seeing the way her face scrunched up at the foul odor.

“I haven’t seen you in almost two weeks. You know I’ll take all the time I can with you.” Hermione blushed a bit, turning to look at the floor. “Plus, I can’t always talk to you without Professor Weasley butting in.” Truth be told, Percy was growing on her. He wasn’t as bland as he once was, and there were times where even McGonagall found his dry humor funny. Neville just smiled at her warmly, the red remaining on the tips of his ears.

“Alright, I see your point.” Neville pulled a pot closer to him, taking a handful of fertilizer in hand and mixing it among the soil there. “Not that I’d ever complained, I could use a know-it-all to call me out on my mistakes.”

“Oh, ha, ha, very funny.” Hermione mockingly laughed. “How are you managing the first couple of weeks now?”

“Good, there are a couple of students in the fifth year that I can already tell will be a problem. Both Ravenclaw’s that remind me of Slytherins in our year.” Neville and Hermione both shuttered.

“I think I know exactly who you’re talking about. Lovett, and McLoughin.” Hermione recalled. Neville just stared at her with disbelief.

“I’ll never understand how you do that; I still don’t remember most of my student’s names.” Neville shrugged hopelessly. “I mean I’m better than I was last year but things change so often I can’t keep it straight.” He referred to the abundance of transfers that many students went through, many of their parents too afraid to let them finish their schooling at Hogwarts. The scars left behind by the war too daunting for them to cope with. Hermione and Neville both understood completely, knowing that McGonagall never fought the parents who wished to relocate. Three years wasn’t long enough to move past the bloodshed that happened on these grounds.

There was a knock at the far door. Draco Malfoy stood there, looking at the two of them with a neutral expression. That was something Hermione learned quickly, Draco kept very much to himself, not revealing much of any emotion hidden behind those gray eyes. “Draco.” Neville smiled at him warmly, “What can I do for you?”

“I’m doing a lesson on truth serum, and my stores are low. Could you spare some Sopophorous Beans?” he entered the room. “I don’t mean to intrude on your date.” He said very Snape-like. Before Hermione could respond, Neville piped up. 

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll go grab you some. Be right back.” He wiped his hands off and turned to head into another room of the greenhouse. “Play nice you two.” He said knowingly at the two of them. Hermione blushed embarrassed, while Draco cleared his throat.

“Granger.” He trailed off.

“Malfoy, how was your summer?” she said as politely as she could. Trying to remain civil for Neville’s sake was the only thing that kept her from wanting to repeat their third year. Hermione knew he deserved a second chance, but it didn’t stop her skin from crawling when he said her name.

“As pleasant as it could be all things considered.” He said hotly.

Hermione cringed, remembering the large headline ‘War Villain Lucius Malfoy, DEAD’. “Draco, I’m so sorry about your father.” She swallowed, knowing that no matter the animosity between Malfoy and his father, he was still his father.

“It’s fine Granger, the war took too much of a toll on him. He went surrounded by those who loved him. Minister Shacklebolt has a heart.” Draco sensed Hermione’s confusion. “Dad was remorseful after the war, somewhat. Enough that the Minister decided it wouldn’t be humane for him to die alone, rotting in Azkaban.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” she cringed again, trying to backpedal. “Not glad that he’s passed, glad you all were there for him. No one deserves to die alone.”

“Thank you, Granger.” He said, his voice breaking slightly. They both sighed, relieved as Neville came back around the corner with a rather large jar of beans. “That’s perfect Longbottom, thank you.”

“Anytime, my door is always open Draco,” Neville said purposefully, Hermione could see the intentions behind Neville calling Malfoy by his first name. The corner of Malfoy’s mouth turned up slightly before he nodded at the two of them, quickly leaving the room. Once he had left Neville turned to Hermione, clumsily scooping her into his arms. His hands trailing up her denim-clad thighs, stopping to rest on her hips.

“He seems normal,” Hermione stated and Neville shifted to stand between her parted legs.

“He’s trying, we can all tell. He’s bloody awkward about it, but I’ll give the man the benefit of the doubt.” Neville sighed, and Hermione looked up at him. She slithered her hands upwards, clasping them behind his neck. She was so close to him now, butterflies fluttering about in her stomach.

“You make me feel like a teenager Neville, you know, that right?” she beamed up at him as he pulled her closer to him by her hips.

“Yes, I do. You make me feel the same way.” He was suddenly breathless, fingertips tingling against her hips. She pulled him closer crushing her lips against his, soft and so welcoming. He eagerly met the pace she set, tongue trailing on her bottom lip.

Stolen kisses? She could get used to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos and bookmarks, more to come soon.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, this is a bit of a passion project! I've been thinking of it for month's but now that my salon is closed due to COVID-19, I have lots of time to actually write it! Hope you enjoy.


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